This Is Me You're Talking To
by LadyClaireAnn
Summary: Arthur and Alfred haven't seen each other since their break up years ago. A chance encounter on the street makes them both wonder if they're truly over each other.


This Is Me You're Talking To

Twenty-six year old Arthur Kirkland stepped out of his favorite coffee shop, caramel latte in hand with the other hand busy holding his jacket closed against the frozen wind hitting him head on.

He fumbled for his gloves which he'd hastily shoved into his coat pocket upon entering the coffee shop. Had he been paying attention he'd have noticed a familiar face approaching him and he'd have made an abrupt crossing to the other side of the street.

But he didn't, so while he walked and struggled to put his gloves on and keep his coffee from spilling he crashed directly into the one person he never wanted to see again. "I'm so sorry," he stepped back, still not having looked up to see just whom he'd run into.

"It's alright, Arthur," answered a familiar voice, a too familiar voice.

Arthur jumped back and looked up into that familiar face. "Alfred," he whispered.

"Hi, Arthur, been too long," a strong gust of cold wind blew Alfred's hair out of place and he raked his fingers through it to put it somewhat back into place.

Arthur said nothing, his first instinct was to run and hide. From Alfred Jones and from his feelings. "Yeah, it has hasn't it?"

"How have you been?" another gust of wind blew Alfred's hair out of place and he pushed it back into place with a nervous smile.

Arthur noticed his ex-boyfriend shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he was uncomfortable, probably remembering what all had happened between them and the unfortunate way it had ended. "Oh, you know, alright I suppose." He gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You look well." Arthur had never known Alfred to be so collected, when they'd been together everything had been and endless flurry of chaos.

Arthur thought back to how theirs had been a whirlwind romance back at university. It was Arthur's last year before graduating and hopefully going on to teach English at a high school and he'd been invited to a house party by a friend of a friend. He hadn't normally been a partier, but his friend begged him to. "You need to loosen up a little, Arty," he'd said. To which Arthur huffed: "I told you never to call me Arty."

Eventually he ended up attending and while he was there he'd met Alfred Jones, a history major, a year behind him.

It had only taken a few drinks before they ended up in a closet together, their sweaty bodies moving together in coital bliss.

"I said you look well, Arthur," Alfred's voice cut through his reverie and Arthur realized he'd been staring at Alfred. The years had been good to him.

"You look well, too," Arthur didn't like how stiff the conversation was, but after five years and all the memories of their breakup and the events preceding it, it was difficult to pretend like what happened never happened.

"What are you doing nowadays?" Alfred continued with the small talk, still shifting from one foot to the other.

"I teach English at Central High School."

"Doing what you always wanted to do, huh?," Alfred flashed him a teasing smile, "I've been bouncing around doing odd jobs, but nothing has really struck my fancy."

Arthur nodded and looked down at his feet. He'd heard through their mutual friend, Francis that Alfred had met someone and they were reportedly very much in love.

Arthur didn't believe that for two seconds, what they'd had had been love. This man Alfred was with now would never be to Alfred what Arthur had been. He's the one that knew Alfred and from what he'd heard of this guy, he was nowhere near what he had been.

Alfred looked at him in that way that always made his heart skip a beat. Even on this cold wintery day, Alfred still managed to leave Arthur feel all warm from the inside out.

Why hadn't he moved away and found a job in a different town? One where he didn't have to risk running into the love of his life. He supposed it was because deep down he hoped that Alfred would miss him like Arthur missed him. That they could get back together and fall in love again and get married, like they'd talked about back when they were so blindly in love.

"Alfred, we don't have to pretend that we're friends. Not after what happened."

Alfred chewed on this for a couple seconds, his brow pinched in consternation. "Arthur, I—," Alfred raised his hand and placed it on his cheek.

His breath caught in his throat, he leaned in close to Alfred. He could feel his ex's steady breathing on his lips. Before their lips could connect, Arthur remembered that Alfred had a boyfriend so he turned his head and Alfred's lips landed on his jaw.

"Al, don't. This is me you're talking to." He took his hand off his cheek and stepped away from Alfred. He wanted Alfred to say that he really loved him, but at the same time he couldn't imagine anything more painful than that.

Alfred frowned and let his hand fall back to his side, "You're right."

Arthur wanted to remain stoic, to give Alfred the impression that he'd moved on, but the longer he stayed in Alfred's presence, the more he felt his resolve weaken.

Alfred pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned again, "I've got to go, I'm meeting someone for lunch."

Arthur didn't have to ask who 'someone' was. He nodded once and before he knew what happened, Alfred had pulled him into a warm hug. He let out a surprised noise but once the initial shock wore off he tentatively wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders and closed his eyes.

They held each other for a long time and suddenly it was as if no time had passed.

Alfred nuzzled Arthur's hair and kissed the side of his head.

They let go of each other at the same time. "Bye, Arthur," Alfred stepped around him and started walking away. He did not look back.

Arthur turned and watched him go, he wouldn't say good bye, for that was something one says to someone they'll never see again.

He dropped his gaze back onto the pavement and headed in the opposite direction.

The coffee in his hand had a long time grown cold, so he tossed it in a trash can and muttered, "God damn you, Alfred Jones."

A/N: This has been kicking around in my brain for a couple days, so I decided to write it. I love feedback, so tell me what you liked or disliked or whatever.

Thanks for reading my fic.


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